


you crawl up in there and join me within

by nerdbird26



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Possession, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdbird26/pseuds/nerdbird26
Summary: Alex thought he had left his history with Schlatt in the past, but now he feels a new presence under his skin.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 7
Kudos: 210





	you crawl up in there and join me within

**Author's Note:**

> [This story takes place within the Dream SMP (roleplay)]
> 
> TW: abuse, mentions of alcohol, nightmares, panic attacks, blood, minor injury
> 
> Title based on lyrics from Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost

_Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump._

Alex’s heart beats in his hollow chest, ricocheting around his rib cage and echoing in his skull. He stands stiffly in his suit and tie, sweat forming on his forehead. He makes no moves to wipe if off, however. Slightly ahead of him and to his side, Schlatt is slumped in his leather office chair at a long dark oak table. A single empty bottle of alcohol is grasped in his hand.

He hears his boss sigh heavily, almost impatiently. He can’t see his face, but he already knows that he’s wearing a scowl. Schlatt scratches one of his ram horns with his empty hand. Alex notices the uneven fingernails on his hand, worn down from anxious biting. The younger man shifts uncomfortably in his spot, too nervous to speak.

The uneasy silence of the room is broken when Schlatt finally speaks. “Quackity,” he slurs. His voice is heavy with drunkenness, deep and raspy. Alex tries not to shake as he hears it. Schlatt may be a few feet away from him, but the voice sounds as though he’s pressed right against his ear.

“Y-yes, boss?” He cringes at his stutter and hopes the other man doesn’t point it out.

Jschlatt extends the hand holding the empty bottle to his side and releases it, sending bits of glass shattering across the floor. Alex flinches, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second. A single squeak makes it past his lips, but Schlatt is far too drunk to notice.

“Pick that up for me, will you?” Schlatt places his now new empty hand back on the table and raps his fingers impatiently. On instinct, Alex walks over to the mess and carefully falls to his knees to pick up the pieces of shattered glass. Without a broom or dustpan to clean up the mess, he pitifully picks up each piece and collects them in his hand.

As he’s collecting the fragments onto his open palm, a heavy hand falls on the back of his head. Over his beanie, he feels his boss start to pet him like a dog. He pauses his task for a mere second, taken aback by this form of... affection? Then, he hears him chuckle.

“Christ, you would do anything for me. You’re so... uh. What should I say? Stupid? Cute? Pathetic?”

The petting stops and he shoves his head to the side. To keep himself from toppling over, he shoots out his hand next to him. Alex flinches again, feeling a sharp sting on his palm. He hisses through his teeth, and for once Schlatt notices his little reaction and laughs. The older man lifts himself up from his chair and heads to the door.

“I’ll be back soon. Clean this mess up quickly.” The door slams behind him as he walks out.

Quackity readjusts himself, examining his injured palm. A few tiny fragments of glass are ingrained in his tan skin. Droplets of blood start to form. He silently swears to himself and bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying. Paranoid by Schlatt’s soon arrival, he ignores his bloody hand and returns to picking up the remaining pieces of glass.

More cuts form on his hand as he continuously piles the shattered pieces into his palm. A few drops of blood fall to the floor. He continues despite it. After a solid minute, he’s managed to collect all of the visible pieces of glass on the floor. He examines the finished work in his hands; it glitters wickedly. Suddenly, a small splatter of blood falls on it, not from a cut on his hand, but rather his mouth.

His mouth fills with the putrid taste of iron. The crimson liquid is thick in his throat, gagging him. The glass in his hands falls to the floor again, followed by a nonstop stream of blood. Tears pour from his eyes as he chokes on more and more blood and bile.

_Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump._

His heart beats in his chest. This time, however, it is twice as loud. Twice as fast. Twice as heavy.

-/-/-

Quackity wakes up with a startle. Cold sweat sticks to his body as he trembles. The room he’s in is pitch black except for the subtle blue hue of moonlight. It reminds him of when Schlatt would knock him unconscious in a drunken rage and he would wake up hours later.

For a moment that’s all he remembers. Schlatt.

Broken glass. Slamming doors. Sinister laughter. Blood. A lot of blood.

He presses his hands together, and though he feels no glass in his palms, the shadow of his nightmare follows him. His heartbeat echoes in his head, clear as a siren. It’s so loud. Too loud. Too dark. Too cold. His chest heaves, throat raspy as he tries to inhale oxygen. He brings his knees up to his chest and buries his head between them while covering his ears.

Out of the darkness, a hand reaches out to him and brushes his shoulder. Quackity immediately flinches, burying into himself even more. He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for something to strike him, but nothing of the sort happens. A muffled voice calls to him, but his heart racing in his ears is still too loud. He opens one eye to inspect the voice.

A familiar face stares back at him, wide brown eyes laced with worry. The pale skin of his face is flushed with red and his ruffled hair falls delicately over his forehead. He’s wearing an oversized sleep shirt that belongs to neither of them. Karl, after getting Quackity’s attention, pulls his hand back.

“Hey, you alright? You woke up all startled. Did you have a bad dream or something?” His voice is soft like light rain. He tilts his head slightly in confusion and hesitantly places his hand back on Quackity’s shoulder.

Alex swallows. He takes his eyes off of Karl and glances around the dark room. With the moonlight peaking in, he recognizes the layout of the other man’s home. He doesn’t remember spending the night here. Odd.

“Wha—? Why am I sleeping here? When did I get here?” He slurs his words, still groggy from sleep.

“Ever since Schlatt’s funeral you’ve been having trouble sleeping. I figured the three of us sleeping together would help a little.”

“W-wait... Schlatt’s huh?”

“His funeral? It was just a few days ago. Don’t you remember?” Karl pauses and waits for a response from Quackity. All he gets is the same confused expression. “Alex, do you really not remember? You even gave a speech there. And then you—“

Alex’s face falls and turns pale. Of course he remembers. How could he not? Everyone was there, and they all watched as Quackity pulled the heart of his decaying boss out of his coffin and—

His hand instantly flies up to his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. He starts to quiver even more than he had before. The memory of that day flashes before his eyes. He remembers the bitter taste of blood and human muscle as he tore a chunk of Schlatt’s heart off with his bare teeth. Everyone had stared at him with disgust and disbelief. Quackity was known for being a wild character, maybe even a bit unhinged, but this was something else entirely.

“Ah- Alex!? Are you gonna throw up? Uh, I think there’s a bucket around here that you can—“ Karl is halfway across Quackity’s lap trying to reach for a bucket, but Alex is already pulling back to his original spot.

“I— _fuck_ , I did something awful. Schlatt fucking died and I ate his _heart._ I ate his—!” Alex repeats to himself in horror. “I’m sick. I’m a sick fuck and I’m terrible.”

“H-hey, that’s not true. You’re not terrible. You had to deal with a lot of messed up stuff when you were with Schlatt, and that’s not your fault.” Karl wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulder, pulling him close.

“No, you don’t understand, Karl. This is a lot worse than it seems. I can’t sleep at night. All I have are nightmares of him. Even when I’m awake, he’s all I think about. It’s like he’s everywhere. And it’s all because I... _fuck!_ ”

He curls himself even closer to his partner, burning his face between his shoulder and neck. As he violently sobs, he grips his sleep shirt for dear life as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Besides Karl, another person stirs awake. Black hair falls over his eyes and covers most of his face. Battle scars are scattered across his exposed chest and back. He lifts his hair from his eyes and squints in the darkness to find the sudden commotion.

“Karl? Alex?”

Karl looks over at him and whispers an apology for waking him up. Sapnap notices the quivering and sobbing body cradled in his arms, and he sighs. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Before Schlatt’s funeral, hell, even before Schlatt’s death, Quackity would have terrible night terrors. Nightmares of wars and drunk yelling and never being good enough. They were always vague, yet violent. He would feel especially guilty when Quackity had them while sleeping alone; he would have to wander outside to either Karl or Sapnap’s house looking for comfort.

Recently, ever since the funeral, the nightmares have been getting worse. Quackity could describe them in greater detail than before. They were less ambiguous acts of random violence and more targeted. Personal. Realistic. It terrified them all.

Sapnap pulls the bedsheets off of himself and wanders over to Alex’s side of the bed. He signals to Karl to scoot over, and once there’s enough space on the bed, he climbs back in and nestles into Alex’s shaking body. He traces his palms in small, gentle circles on his back, murmuring words of comfort.

“Alex. Sweetheart, we’re right here. We’ve got you,” Sapnap whispers.

Quackity acknowledges him with a quick nod, but he remains clinging to Karl’s (or rather Sapnap’s) shirt. His body continues to shake, but his sobs have mellowed down into sniffles. Karl brushes a few strands of hair off his forehead to take a better look at him.

“How are you feeling?”

Quackity shrugs. His face is still partially buried in Karl’s shoulder, but his expression is blank. The underside of his eyes are wet and stained with dark bags.

“You wanna talk about it or go to sleep?” Karl continues.

“M’tired. I wanna sleep,” Alex mutters. His eyelids already feel heavy.

“Okay, we’ll sleep,” Sapnap replies. “We’ll be right here with you, Alex.”

He nods lazily and already feels himself drifting into subconscious. In a matter of seconds, his exhaustion weighs on him and he falls asleep between Sapnap and Karl. The bed is warm with their presence, and he sleeps a lot easier than before. He doesn’t have another nightmare for the rest of tonight, but his heart still beats unusually loud.

-/-/-

Days after the nightmare at Karl’s house, Quackity visits Schlatt’s grave.

It rained the night before. The ground is still damp; the dirt isn’t soggy enough to turn into mud, but it still leaves gross stains on his boots. A few stray rain clouds hang in the sky above.

Schlatt’s tombstone is lazily built with cobblestone and is surrounded by weeds and flowers. His name is carved into the stone, and nothing else. It’s a little lopsided if you squint at it.

Alex stands there, kicking the dirt at his feet. It reminds him of the times when Schlatt was alive and he would stand at his side, awkwardly and anxious. Except this time, he feels no anxiety. His boss is dead; there’s no need for him to be afraid anymore. The dead bastard has no control over him.

He takes out his hand from the pocket of his hoodie and clenches it. His brows furrow as he stares at the grave. A subtle wind picks up and sways the overgrown flora on the ground.

“What have you done to me? You’re dead. You died of a stupid heart attack and now you’re gone forever.”

More gray clouds gather above him. The wind whistles.

“You manipulated me. You treated me like shit. I thought you were my friend. And now you’re dead.”

The temperature drops and he shivers.

“Is this payback for betraying you? For eating your heart at the funeral? You’ve been plaguing my dreams. My thoughts. You’re all I think about nowadays.”

A drop of rain hits the ground beside him.

“Is this your way of trying to continue to manipulate me? Well, it’s not gonna work. I have new people in my life. Better people. And they care about me more than you ever did.”

He starts to shake now, not from the cold, but from anger. More droplets of rain fall from the sky.

“And I really thought you loved me in the beginning. And I stayed even when everyone else was against you because I believed in you. But now look at what you’ve done. You’ve ruined me. I’m sick because of you. I hate to admit it, but I miss you. I miss what we had. What could have been. I just want to good parts of you back. You dead bastard, look at what you’ve done! Look!”

Is it rain or a tear that falls down his cheek? He can’t really tell. He stuffs his hand back into his pocket, defeated. He suddenly feels silly for screaming at a stack of rocks, hoping that the ghost of his deceased boss and ex-husband would hear him. Alex stares at it for a few moments more, listening to the rain in the background rise in volume. He then scoffs, turning away from the grave and shielding his eyes from the droplets.

_You miss me?_

Alex pauses dead in his tracks, and his breath gets caught in his throat. He turns his head in every direction trying to look for the voice, but he can’t determined where it came from. It almost echoes from inside his head.

_You can bring me back, y’know?_

There it is again. Taunting. It comes from nowhere, yet everywhere at the same time. He swallows, shaking his head and shutting his eyes. No. There’s no way. It’s all in his imagination, it has to be!

_Do you want me back?_

Panicked, he reaches his fingers underneath his beanie and grips the strands of hair. His whole body trembles with disbelief. “Schlatt?”

_That’s my name. Now answer my question. Do you want me back?_

Alex huffs, dazed and bewildered. His eyes grow wide and the grip on his hair tightens. “Fuck off.”

_You can bring me back, y’know? I can tell you how. And then we can be together again. Isn’t that what you want?_

“Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! Get out!”

_You still miss me, right? You still want me. Still love me._

“G-get out! Please! I don’t— I don’t want—!”

Something warm and wet runs down his face. It isn’t tears or rain, and it tastes like metal as it drips into his mouth. He pulls a hand away from his hair and touches the spot above his lips. Bright crimson blood oozes out of his nose. Suddenly, an incredible throbbing pain attacks his temples, and he falls to his knees from the pain alone. His vision whites out as his whole body collapses to the ground. He feels his heavy body presses into the damp soil as he loses consciousness.

Everything goes black.

-/-/-

Something ripples under his skin. Like someone tossing a rock into a lake, making echoes in the water. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth. It’s vile, but oddly familiar at the same time.

Something, or someone, is with him.

-/-/-

When he finally opens his eyes, he recognizes the room immediately. The bed beneath him is much more comfortable than the wet soil. From the view of the window, the sun seems so be setting, creating subtle purples and blues and reds in the sky. His body still aches, but he manages to sit up with much effort.

“Hey, you’re awake. Thank God, I was so worried!” Next to him is Karl, holding a hand up to his forehead to check his temperature.

“Wh...what happened?”

“Sapnap found you by Schlatt’s grave. You were blacked out and bleeding. He had to carry you over here,” Karl explains, pulling out a bloody tissue out of his nose.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“N-no, please don’t apologize. It’s okay. We were just worried about you. What happened over there? Did you get attacked?”

Alex does not respond. He stares down at his hands, for he can’t emotionally bear to look at his partner right now. Putting them through all of this, making them worried. He feels like...

“I’m a burden.”

“Alex, darling, please don’t say that. You’re not a burden. Sapnap and I love you so much. We’re always here to help you.”

“I shouldn’t be putting you two through this. You don’t deserve that.”

Karl sighs, pulling Alex close to him and wrapping him in his arms. “Shush, don’t say those things, darling. We’re going to help you through this. Now tell me what happened out there.”

He can’t. He can’t believe Karl’s kind words. He can’t bear to burden him more than he already has. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

“I... I don’t know. It was just too much. Emotionally, I mean. It must have been a panic attack or something.” The lie leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he doesn’t have it in him to tell the truth.

“I understand, Alex. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Quackity has no energy to protest or complain. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep’ or ‘it’s not gonna be okay,’ he wants to say. But instead he leans against Karl’s body and sighs. In the peaceful silence, he hears his heart beat.

Twice as loud. Twice as fast. Twice as heavy.

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to write but I really liked out it turned out and I hoped you liked it too! Idk if I’ll ever do a follow up on this cause I don’t really have any ideas of what would happen afterwards. 
> 
> This is my first mcyt/Dream smp fic and I love Quackity’s character so I wanted to give him some love. 
> 
> Also I have a personal headcanon that Sapnap calls Quackity “sweetheart” and Karl calls him “darling.”


End file.
